Not Quite Hollywood English Movie Free Online, Watch New Film 2009 Movie Review,Download Free Poster

There's a reason that Australia is called Down Under aside from the fact that to us in the U.S. the continent is antipodean. According to Mark Hartley, writer-director of "Not Quite Hollywood," the land of 'roos and crocs has had a fascination with that part of the human body. But this was not true always. Before the liberation movements that were given birth during the Vietnam War protests, what entered the minds of progressive people and just about all young people in the West was the idea that authority was not to be trusted. We're not talking about the authority of nuns in Catholic schools or of teachers in American middle schools, but authority high up on Capitol Hill and in the White House. The Vietnam War protests, a graphic example of this rebellion, was fueled, of course, by the fact that 18-year-olds could be drafted to fight a senseless war in Southeast Asia. In the cinema world, 1968 was the beginning of the end of rigorous censorship of movies. No more Hollywood codes that required a man and woman in bed to each have one foot on the floor. No more censoring pictures because the word "pregnant" was in them.

In Australia, just as prim and proper as the U.S. before the end of censorious fascism, the release from authority generated mostly crap: Ozploitation, a contraction of Aussieploitation. During the seventies and eighties, Australian movies catered only in part to the taste of cinephiles ("My Brilliant Career," "The Chant of Jimmy Blacksmith") but producers sensed that the money would pour in for films chucking political correctness, exploiting the female body while at the same time exploiting, if you will, the bodies of some men, predominantly stunt drivers who would be set aflame, buried in gruesome car crashes, sent toppling over cliffs into the ocean. Heads would roll, literally in some cheap slasher movies. Werewolves, technically so imperfect to recreate decades ago that they were laughable, would gets their teeth into the necks of nubile women and crocs would feast upon hapless swimmers, all to the cheers of the mostly young movie audience.

Some of these pictures-horror, sex and nudity, explosive-would bomb. Others would draw crowds. Few of these are known to Americans,a notable exception being "Mad Max." Biker pictures like "Stone" and horror movies like "Long Weekend" filled the seats in Sydney and Melbourne.

But the time seems to be over for Ozploitation, to the regret of Quentin Tarantino, who serves as principal fanboy commenting with the glee of high-school freshmen about any and all of these trashy movies. Other talking heads, some sympathetic, a few curmudgeonly, sit in chairs like and drone on about the thrills and chills, the excitement and the boredom, of the forgettable junk.

The trouble with "Not Quite Hollywood" is that writer-director Mark Hartley gives the impression that he is embarrassed by the movies his actors, producers, directors, photographers and critics are gassing about: There is scarcely an entry in "Not Quite Hollywood" that goes on screen for more than thirty seconds. There is far too much frantic movement in Hartley's attempt at breadth instead of depth, as though he think that the audience for his film has the concentration of a second-grader.

I for one would have much preferred to cut the numbers of movies discussed here in favor of giving us clips of some, at least, lasting two or three minutes. What's the hurry, Mark? You have a captive audience: we're not going anywhere in the next hour or so.